This Will Be The Day
by The Mysterious Shrub
Summary: James Potter dosed Lily Evans with a love potion. It is well known in the magical world that those conceived under the influence of Amortentia are unable to feel true emotion- and Harry is no exception. That is, until he meets his prophesied equal. HP/TR AU
1. Chapter 1

Summary: James Potter dosed Lily Evans with a love potion. It is well known in the magical world that those conceived under influence of Amortentia are unable to feel true emotion- and Harry is no exception. That is, until he meets his prophesized equal. HP/TR AU

-August 31st, Little Whinging, Surrey, England -

The young boy leaned forward in his bed, focused intently on the first year transfiguration book in front of him.

It was late in the night, but he was determined to finish his school books before he left for Hogwarts.

 _Hogwarts, the Wizarding School._ He still couldn't quite believe he was a wizard; magic, he had magic _._

He knew the other students at his school had probably known about magic for years, and he would not show himself to be incompetent.

If there was one thing he'd learned from his life with the Dursleys, it was the importance of power. The bigger, the more intimidating you were, the less likely you were to be prayed on by the other children.

It seemed logical that at wizarding school magic was strength rather than size, and this was his chance to finally seize power, thrive, _hurt those who had hurt him._

So Harry read through the night, by the moonlight through his window.

And wasn't that strange, having a window. The Dursleys had apparently been so intimidated by Hagrid and the thought that the wizards might discover Harry's subpar living conditions that they gave him his own bedroom.

Everything was getting better, it seemed. His uncle had planned on locking Harry's schoolbooks in his cupboard, but a few well-placed threats about informing his teachers of why he was unprepared for school were enough to convince him, albeit reluctantly, to let Harry keep them.

His wand, unfortunately, was still locked away. Harry had long ago learned how far he could push his uncle, and keeping a weapon they were obviously terrified of? No way.

Once, when he was younger, he had tried to escape the Dursleys by informing his teacher of his living conditions- he always was good at faking tears.

Social services had been called and they'd even come to his house to speak to his relatives. They hadn't liked what they saw and they promised to follow up and take Harry away to a new home… but they never did.

The case was mysteriously dropped, but his uncle had been furious- his face the color of a ripe plum. Harry hadn't eaten for a week.

He wouldn't actually tell the wizards about the Dursleys; over the years, he had become self-sufficient, and he didn't need a doting family.

He could spend his time reading library books when he wasn't doing chores or escaping Harry Hunting (and wasn't that easy; Dudley wasn't exactly fit), and he wasn't implored upon to fake emotion.

He hated the Dursleys and the Dursleys hated him; he didn't need to mask his true feelings. Harry had realized at an early age that he didn't experience emotions in the same way as other kids; probably because of his oh-so-loving relatives, he had trouble feeling sympathy for the other children, and he couldn't understand their pitiful need for friends.

He'd always known he was better than them; Hagrid had only confirmed it. With this thought in mind and a twisted smile on his face, he fell asleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sitting on the train, Harry realized that his journey to Hogwarts was really a little anticlimactic.

He'd cooked breakfast for the Dursleys early that morning, and his uncle had cheerily left him at the train station, glad to be rid of him for a year.

He'd found his way to platform 9 ¾ after far too much time (and how incompetent were these adults, that they didn't bother explaining how to get to the platform?).

He'd made his way through the platform, surrounded by owls and wizards, _real wizards,_ dressed in robes and brandishing wands.

Even Harry, unexcitable as he was, was in awe at the feeling of magic in the air. He'd boarded the train, truly optimistic for the first time in his life… and he'd been sitting in this compartment alone for several hours.

He didn't need friends, but it would have been nice to meet _someone_ before he arrived at Hogwarts. He briefly considered finding a different compartment, but rejected the idea as quickly as he formulated it.

Reading more books could do him no harm; he'd finished his school books at this point, but those were hardly his only purchases from the book store.

After all, first year magic books couldn't possibly teach him all he needed to know about wizarding culture.

Even as he cracked open his first novel, the compartment door opened. In walked a disturbingly pretty boy with an odd resemblance to a peacock, followed by two boys? Trolls? Harry wasn't entirely sure.

"I heard Harry Potter was on this train. You wouldn't happen to have seen him, would you?"

This was the opportunity Harry had been hoping for all day. "That would be me. " He replied, voice cracking, far from the commanding introduction he had planned. He frowned momentarily but quickly hid his reaction.

The blonde looked surprised for a moment, but collected himself and extended a hand arrogantly, "Draco Malfoy. You know Potter, you could really benefit from hanging out with the right crowd at Hogwarts."

His henchmen (they had to be henchmen) nodded seriously in agreement. Well, that was straightforward.

"Would that crowd happen to include your… illustrious self?" Harry replied, giving his best charming smile.

Malfoy smirked, haughtily. "The Malfoys are a much respected pureblood family. I'm glad to see you know of our prestige."

Harry restrained a laugh; this was too easy. "I believe this may be the start of a great… partnership. Please, sit down."

The rest of the train ride passed in a blur, mostly filled with conversation about Malfoy's amazing father and occasional visits from his friends.

Harry was slightly frustrated by the blonde's choice of topic, but at least he didn't need to reveal much about his home life.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry had decided on the train that Ravenclaw was the best choice for him. From Draco's descriptions of the houses, Dumbledore, and the teachers of Hogwarts (whom he all apparently knew because his father was a Hogwarts governor, and hadn't that been said with pride), Slytherin was a rather stigmatized house.

Harry was an avid student, Ravenclaw was a neutral house; really the best option for him, considering his apparent status as the boy-who-lived.

Draco had obviously been attempting to manipulate him because of his status, but Harry had been doing the same to Draco; manipulation was not unknown to him.

Draco's recommendation of Slytherin probably wouldn't go over well with the light side he was apparently the figurehead for (and wasn't that odd), which from Draco's descriptions was full of "idiotic Gryffindors".

Truly, Ravenclaw was the best option…

"Slytherin!"

The students of all four houses stared on in silence, shocked, before whispers sprung up all around the hall.

Well, shit.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

AN:

Hi guys! This is my first fanfic, so I'm not sure about the pacing. I'd really appreciate constructive criticism. If there's anything in the formatting that should be changed, please let me know.


	2. Chapter 2

AN:

Thanks to everyone who favorited/followed/reviewed! I've decided to start this chapter at the beginning of the sorting ceremony.

WARNINGS:

This fic will eventually be TR/HP but it will be very slow build.

The rating may increase, but not until much later

-September 1st, 1991-

Harry stood in the crowded antechamber, feeling slightly (more than slightly) claustrophobic.

Professor McGonagall, a strict-looking woman with a harsh bun, had led them inside from the boats they'd used to cross the lake.

He'd been amazed at the sight of Hogwarts; living at the Dursley's, he rarely saw a building larger than his school.

The castle, glowing brightly over the lake… it had been, cheesily enough, magical. He'd even, much to his consternation, let out a gasp that quickly turned to a scowl at Draco's smug look.

According to Draco, he'd already seen the castle dozens of times, of course, because his father was a Hogwarts governor, and really, why would they let that oaf Hagrid lead them in?

Harry had been initially excited to meet someone from an apparently influential family, but after a few hours with Draco… he'd become pretty skilled at tuning him out.

The blonde had an amusing, if annoying after a while, habit of exaggerating everything. Harry was sure Draco had seen the castle before, based on his reaction, but he highly doubted he'd been there a dozen times.

Harry was startled back from his musings on his first ally in the wizarding world by the sight of transparent figures walking through the walls.

 _Ghosts_. Harry had read about them in Hogwarts: a History, but it was incredibly strange to see them.

Were they sentient? Could they actually think new thoughts or were they just reflections of their former selves?

He'd been shocked to realize that ghosts were real; he'd have to talk to one some time, but that would have to wait.

Draco was insulting some muggleborn who'd been startled by the ghosts. Harry didn't really have an issue with the muggleborns, but he wasn't going to ruin the progress he'd made with Draco by helping one out.

In front of him, Harry watched as a red-haired, freckled boy loudly yelled that his brothers had told him they had to fight a troll to be sorted.

How ridiculous; they didn't know any magic, and how would fighting a troll reveal someone's personality traits?

Well, maybe they did fight a troll. Harry wasn't sure. Draco had refused to tell him how they were sorted, although whether that was because Draco didn't know or because he wanted to see Harry's reaction to whatever it was, he didn't know.

Draco looked like he was about to say something (surely insulting) to the redhead, but Harry quickly sidetracked him into a conversation about houses.

Professor McGonagall chose that moment to return, casting suspicious eyes over all of them in search of any wrongdoing.

Apparently satisfied by what she saw, she spoke. "Move along now, the Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

As she led them into the great hall, Harry was stunned by the thousands of candles floating magically and the view of the sky outside, though he'd read that the ceiling was bewitched.

He presented no outward reaction, however; this time it was he who smirked at Draco's look of awe.

A bushy-haired girl with oddly large teeth spoke next to him. "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in _Hogwarts, A History_." So had he. Why did she feel the need to announce it to everyone? Probably nerves.

Professor McGonagall carried a stool over to the first years, and placed on it… a hat. An incredibly dirty, old, frayed-looking _hat._

The hat began to _sing_ of all things, about the four houses. Apparently it was going to sort them.

He knew wizards were odd, but a hat was going to determine their future? Really?

His hands began to sweat as names were called. People he could fool, but a hat that could apparently see inside his head?

"Malfoy, Draco!" Draco swaggered up to the stool pompously, and the hat sat on his head for hardly a second before yelling "Slytherin!"

Harry nodded at him in approval. Finally, after "Perks, Sally-Anne!" went to Hufflepuff, the hat called out "Potter, Harry!"

The hall broke out in whispers. He walked up to the stool gracefully, carefully not rushing so he wouldn't appear nervous.

He delicately placed the hat on his head, only to cringe as it slid down over his glasses. " _Why, hello there. I haven't seen a mind quite like yours for a while."_

Harry startled; the hat was speaking in his head! _"I think it's quite obvious where you belong, but I see you don't feel the same way."_

"Ravenclaw. I love studying, I'm a great student, I'll fit in well."

" _You are intelligent, certainly… But you don't value knowledge for its intrinsic value, do you? Ambition is what drives you._

"Not Slytherin, not Slytherin, I'm the figurehead of the light!"

" _My job is to place students where they belong. A tough road awaits you. You have great potential, I can only hope you will use it for good._ " The hat sounded weary, almost reluctant as it shouted,

"SLYTHERIN!"

The students of all four houses stared on in silence, shocked, before whispers sprung up all around the hall.

Well, shit.

Harry tried to ignore the stares as he approached the Slytherin table. Professor McGonagall, when she'd removed the hat from his head had looked… disturbed.

This wasn't the impression he'd been hoping for, but he could deal with it. Draco waved him over, smirking haughtily.

The rest of the table didn't look nearly as inviting; suspicious looks greeted him from all sides. Right, he was the boy-who-killed-the-leader-of-their-parents.

He sat down next to Draco, carefully keeping his expression blank.

A thin, rat-like boy across from him sneered. "Don't think you're one of us, Potter. You're probably here to spy for Dumbledore."

There were a few murmurs of agreement, but most only observed the interaction with interest, assessing Harry.

"As if I would ever spy for that guy. Look, I know I'm the boy-who-lived, but they've never done anything for me. They placed me to live with muggles, of all things. How could I trust them?"

Some people emitted exclamations of approval or surprise. A pug-faced girl he'd met on the train loudly yelled, "They placed their savior with muggles? Dumbledore really is off his rocker!"

The boy across from him, _Theodore Nott, that was his name,_ snidely remarked, "Well you'd love muggles, wouldn't you? None of us want you here, Potter."

"Would you want to live with muggles? My aunt hates magic and my uncle is no better. I have no sympathy for them or their kind. "

Nott looked slightly taken aback, but covered it quickly with a sneer and looked down at the table. The sorting ceremony came to a close with "Zabini, Blaise!" joining him in Slytherin.

Dumbledore stood to give a speech. Harry vaguely listened, but at this point he was rather exhausted and frustrated by the gazes that refused to leave him. _Seriously, don't they have anything better to look at?_

He was jerked back to attention when Dumbledore mentioned a bloody and painful death to those who entered the third floor corridor. What the hell? This was a school! Why would there be something so dangerous kept in a place full of children?

Draco echoed his sentiments loudly. "When my father hears about this! This is a school! Does Dumbledore regularly endanger the students?"

Several students responded to him with agreement or answers to his last question.

Harry, however, was thinking. What purpose could keeping something life-threatening in Hogwarts serve?

He would have to visit that corridor, once he was confident he could protect himself… which may not be for a while, given that he was only a first year.

Whatever this was was surely beyond his level.

After food suddenly appeared on the table (delicious food, unlike anything he'd had before) and a rendition of the ear-breaking Hogwarts School Song, two Slytherin prefects led them into the dungeons.

Gemma Farley, an attractive girl with brown hair spoke "purity" at a nondescript place in the wall, which amazingly opened into a dark, lavishly furnished room.

She ushered them in, stone-faced, to stand in the center of the room. "This is Slytherin. We are cunning and ambitious. Breaking the rules is expected of you; I'm not going to warn you against it. However, your actions reflect on the rest of us, so whatever you do. Don't. Get. Caught. Do you understand?"

The first years nodded understandingly.

Farley nodded in approval and continued. "Girl's dorms are on the left; I'll lead you there. Jeffrey, you take the boys."

Jeffrey Barnwell looked down at the first years blankly before turning suddenly and walking to the right side of the room.

Apparently they were expected to follow. Harry walked across the common room, purposely looking straight ahead rather than examining the room so he didn't look like an awe-filled first year.

Of course, he was an awe-filled first year, but no one needed to know that. Barnwell led them into a spacious room with silk-curtained beds and- a window? Weren't they under the lake?

It must be magic. Harry spotted his trunk at the foot of the bed furthest to the back and right. It was odd that they could unload the trunks from the train so quickly and place them in the dorms- especially since all the teachers were at the feast.

Harry relegated the thought to his growing list of things-to-investigate later. For now he was going to sleep.


End file.
